


“i don’t love you like i did yesterday”

by nepenthess



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Falling Out of Love, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Lots of Angst, M/M, but i think it fits jesse/genji/jack/gabriel more, honestly i could’ve put this in original works but o well, i also never mention who the ow boi is so uh just imagine it as whoever, i never actually mention reader’s gender so yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 20:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18557437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nepenthess/pseuds/nepenthess
Summary: You can’t just stop loving someone.Can you?





	“i don’t love you like i did yesterday”

**Author's Note:**

> got inspiration for this from a really good angst harry styles fic lol enjoy

It had started with your voice.

Once a source of comfort and relief, now like screeching daggers to his ears. He supposed that one particular night after a mission gone wrong, you just _talking so much_ (even though you meant to assure him of his innocence) lead to that.

He had just wanted to sleep.

Then it was how you touched him. 

Once a place where he felt safe and loved in, your arms were now straitjackets of warmth, suffocating him in your body heat.

At the peak of your relationship, trailing your fingertips down his body made him melt into you, curling tighter around your body. But now he resisted your advances, gingerly taking your hands and placing them somewhere else.

He just didn’t feel like it tonight.

Then it was just… _you_.

You, with all of your quirky things that made him laugh. You, with your bright smile and quick wit that made him appreciate you. You, with your soft skin and understanding eyes that he adored. _You, you, you._

Everything that made you you had made him love you, but somewhere along the line, his love changed. 

Doubt crawled into his mind, poisoning his perception of you. A disease created to cause strife and discord, he no longer saw you as the person he fell in love with. 

Everything you did caused him a headache now, every word like a buzzing annoyance, every action an eyesore, every decision a mistake.

You noticed, of course you did. You couldn’t outrightly forget the looks of distaste he sent you sometimes when he thought you weren’t looking. You couldn’t turn a blind eye to how he never responded to your texts and kisses anymore. 

You couldn’t ignore the signs that pointed to him not loving you anymore.

But you kept quiet, because deep in your heart, you believed that he still loved you a tiny bit, if not as much as when he first dated you.

And you endured. 

You endured all the stoic touches, all the one-word texts, all the awkward silences, all the robotic kisses, if you could even call them that.

Kisses were supposed to be love-filled, passionate acts of desire and mutual companionship, and he had kissed you like that before. But these “kisses” were more like placing his lips on your cheek. 

Detached. 

Cold.

Unloving.

But you carried on, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

You had broken a plate. It was a simple situation, nothing to cry over, just messy to clean up. You should’ve been more careful, but a lot was on your mind.

(A lot being _him_.)

You ended up cutting your foot on a shard of ceramic.

You winced and sat down, and it was at this exact moment that he walked into the hall, saw you on the kitchen floor examining your bleeding foot, silently looked away and carried on. 

You felt tears starting to form, and immediately chided yourself for it. _Weak, weak, weak. He didn’t even say anything!_

But that was kind of the point, wasn’t it?

You dried your eyes and started to clean up, throwing away the broken plate and bandaging your injury.

Back then, he babied you, fussing over even the smallest of bruises, or the simplest of paper cuts. He treated you like a princess that deserved everything. 

You missed that. You missed him.

Wetness ran down your cheeks. Great, you were crying again.

The more you thought about it, the more determined you got. This was the very last straw. 

You steeled yourself and walked into the living room. 

He was just sitting there, focussed on his holopad. If he noticed you come in, he didn’t show it. 

A tense silence grew, but was quickly killed.

“Do you not love me anymore?” 

Fuck. You meant for that to come out stronger. Now you just sounded pathetic to him, you were sure.

He stayed silent, and you felt your stomach flip. 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

He said this cooly, detachedly.

You were expecting it, yet it still hurt, worse than any other bullet wound you’d ever experienced in all your years of being an Overwatch agent. 

“Okay.” You bit your lip as tears slipped down your face. You restrained yourself from sniffling. 

“Why?” 

On hearing your voice crack, he flinched. “I…” 

Pause.

“I don’t know,” He finished lamely, though he could probably list off all the things about you that made him tick; all the things that made him fall out of love with you.” 

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” The despair you were feeling simmered, flickering and flaring, anger beginning to form. “Is there someone else?” 

He scoffed. “Please. You think I have the time to find someone else to cheat on you with? And do you really think so lowly of me that I’d do that to you?” 

You raised your voice an octave higher. “I don’t know, you never talk to me anymore! You’ve changed! The man I fell in love with would never cheat, but I don’t know who you are at all.” 

Your tone was more scathing than he’s ever heard in all the years that he’s known you. Staring blankly at the wall, he hears you sigh. Without even looking st you, he can picture you in his mind’s eye: wet-faced, chest heaving, red-eyed. All the characteristics of a broken-hearted, exhausted you.

You turn to leave, and he lets you. He sees the hurt in the sway of your footsteps, in how your muscles tense, in the red of your face. 

And for the first time in a few weeks, months maybe - he feels for you. His chest aches, and he wishes he could turn back time. His mouth opens to croak out a “ _wait_ ” -

But he finds that he can’t speak a word.

As you leave with the broken pieces of your heart clutched in your fingers, you unknowingly carry with you the shards of his, too.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading and feel free to leave kudos or a comments if you enjoyed this :)  
> have a nice day :D


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